


Phil Coulson's Favourite Secret Birthday (so far)

by FlatlandDan



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Birthday, First Kiss, Get Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlatlandDan/pseuds/FlatlandDan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s on the patio, the last of the summer sun warming him and the beer he’s got on the table, when he hears the knock on the front door and Clint lets himself in.  He’s wearing cargo shorts, an I love Captain America promotional t-shirt, a backpack, flip flops and a look of resigned weariness.</p><p>“You look like a Steve Rogers fan girl.  Also, the 4th of July celebrations don’t end for another hour so you shouldn’t be here.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phil Coulson's Favourite Secret Birthday (so far)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pollyrepeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollyrepeat/gifts).



> Happy birthday chickadee! I wanted to write one of the fics I told you about, but that didn't happen, so have something birthday related that fades to black ;) xx

That Captain America’s birthday is July 4th is a universally accepted fact, one that is rarely questioned by anyone outside of probies in hushed voices. Less well know is that Steve Roger’s birthday is April 14th, but the PR is so damn good with the other date that it was legally changed by Presidential decree thirty years ago and Steve is too damn amenable to ask it to be changed back. They have a huge promotional party this year, with the Avengers in uniform signing autographs in a marathon six hour celebration of all that is patriotic.  Phil privately thinks it’s a birthday present to him, an entire day when PR handles the Avengers and he sits on his patio in the breeze and reads.  This year he has the new Clive Cussler novel, send via Amazon and pre-ordered nearly six months ago by his mother before her death.  When he was younger she would buy him the latest book every year and he wasn’t terribly surprised to find out she’d arranged this when she’d known she wouldn’t last much longer.  It hurt a little (actually, it hurt a lot).  He only had to slightly force smile when he  opened the first page and that smile was entirely in fond remembrance. He quite happily ignored any sirens he heard, the hustle of the street below him, and settled into the cushions..  
  
That Phil’s birthday is the 4th of July is not exactly a secret, more of a well kept omittance of information.  Fury knows, which is why unless there is an intergalactic emergency (international barely registers on their radar anymore) he is technically not an employee of SHIELD until 9 am on July 5th . Clint knows because he’s Clint.  He usually forgets because he’s Clint as well, though sometimes Phil finds a card or a bag of cookies or once, memorably, half a cake because someone had gotten hungry.  
  
He’s on the patio, the last of the summer sun warming him and the beer he’s got on the table, when he hears the knock on the front door and Clint lets himself in.  He’s wearing cargo shorts, an I love Captain America promotional t-shirt, a backpack, flip flops and a look of resigned weariness.  
  
“You look like a Steve Rogers fan girl.  Also, the 4th of July celebrations don’t end for another hour so you shouldn’t be here.”  
  
“A kid threw up on my uniform, Phil.  Then I dropped it and Steve caught it and I had to apologize while I was covered in puke to this lady who kept saying she was going to sue the city of New York. PR put me in a little room to pre-sign autographs for two hours and then escorted me out of the building.” He fixes a now grinning Phil with his most hurt look. “Why don’t you get me out of these things, Phil? I thought I was your favourite.”  
  
“I don’t play favourite.”  
  
“Not even if I told you I’d biked halfway across the city to pick up duck chow mein, more beer and rented Drunken Master 2?”  
  
“That would make you higher on the list of people I liked, yes.  And you shouldn’t bike in shorts and flip flops, you’re setting a poor example for the children of the city.” Phil puts the bookmark into his half finished book and leavers himself out of the chair.  It’s been over a year since he died and he’s gotten used to the tightness he feels sometimes, the way his skin doesn’t quite move the way it used to over his chest. Gotten used to, but not really accepted.    
  
“How are they going to know it was me?” Clint asks him and  Phil simply looks pointedly at the helmet attached to Clint’s backpack, with it’s hawk motif curling around the SHIELD logo.  
  
“It was a national emergency.  I mean, you only turn 50 once and I’ve missed about ¾ of the day.” Phil snorts and Clint is back to grinning as  makes himself at home, kicking off his shoes just past the door,  putting the chinese food on the counter before adding a couple of six packs to fridge.  Clint knows where the cutlery is in his apartment, knows his rules about shoes inside, knows that he hates kiwi and loved avocados. He knows that today is his birthday.  
  
“When did we start dating?” He didn’t actually mean to say the words out loud, but there they are.  Clint pauses, beer midway to the fridge, and makes a vague humming noise.  He drums his finger on the top of the door.  
  
“Somewhere between when you started letting me read your homeowners association handbook and when I made you my next of kin, I think.”  
  
“There are regulations.” Clint flashes him a brilliant smile and pulls out the last of the two cold beer.  
“I know, and that’s what makes this even more awesome.  Besides, you always say that and nothing ever happens”  
  
“You don’t get enough danger at your work?  Really?  God, you haven’t changed one bit have you.”  Two socked feet slide across his floor and Clint is suddenly and most definitely in his personal space.  
  
“I have changed.”  
  
“You’re slightly less likely to cause an international incident if left alone for 2 hours.”  
  
“Because of you.”  
  
“I’d like to think I’ve been a good influence”  
  
“Except for that time in Richmond.”  
  
“Except for that, yes.”  
  
“I bet if I kissed you you wouldn’t kick me out of your apartment.” Phil wanted to say he would.  Wanted to give Clint and almighty shove and tell him to stop being inappropriate.  Instead he smiled, rolled his eyes and nodded towards the counter.  
  
“Chinese is getting cold, beer is getting warm.” Clint backed away, smile turning slightly more cheshire then Phil would normally like, and grabbed the food from the counter.  They put the film on, bicker most of the way through it, and make promises to learn the noble art of drunken kung fu on SHIELD’s dime the next time they’re due a martial arts course.  It’s 11:46 when the film end  and Phil decides that isn’t only thing he doesn’t want to be over.  
  
“How many beers have you had?”  
  
“Three.” Clint rolls off the couch and grabs the empties, taking them to the recycling. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch a cab. I may flaunt appropriate bike wear but you know I would drive drunk.”  
  
“Or you could stay...”Phil blurts.  The bottles fall in the kitchen with a loud clang, louder than usual and he’s pretty sure Clint’s neck is turning a bit red. He wants desperately to have not miss read this, the years of flirting and barely skirted appropriate borrowing of clothes and changing of mission.  
  
“Aren’t there regulations?”  
  
“Not till 9 am tomorrow.”  
  
“Really?” Clint peers over his shoulder, managing to look both suspicious and conniving at the same time.  
  
“Fury fires me once a year.  It’s...glorious.”  
  
“So I can stay.”  
  
“Well, you made me your next of kin and drove across the city to buy me chinese food on my birthday and I ran up a triple digit phone bill calling you from Greenland. Did I mention the next of kin bit? Because that pretty much sealed things for me.”  
  
“Yeah.” Clint absentmindedly rubs his neck, but he looks unsure and Phil wonders again if he’s read everything wrong.  If this is just a game that Clint’s pushed for fun and now it’s gone too far and he wants to back out.  
  
“You could take the couch, if you want.” Phil lays the option out, putting on his best bland bureaucratic tone to do so.  There are few things Phil is scared of in the world, but being the person to leave Clint without an out in a situation like this is one of them.  If he takes a cab or takes the couch, Phil’s fine.  Absolutely fine.  But it’s 11:52 and today is kinda like being a girl on a leap day for him.  If he doesn’t ask now, he’s going to have a wait a while.  
  
“Wait.  Fuck.  Your bed is an option?” Clint’s fixed on him like a target and Phil can only nod.  
  
“With you in it?” Phil laughs.  He has to laugh.  Which sets Clint off and Phil knows the  two of them are stuck in this endless cycle of not being able to make eye contact.  “It had better be with you in it.” He hears the half growl next to him (damn, Clint moves quiet and fast) and when he looks up his eyes catch 11:58 for a second before Clint’s mouth catches his. He feels an arm circle around his shoulder and up behind his head just as his arms instinctively move to wrap around Clint’s back.  The kiss is everything he wanted it to be, all chinese five spice and chapped lips and firm. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and nothing he ever expected he’d have.  They pull apart with giant grins on both their faces and Clint leans in to rest his forehead against Phil’s.  
  
“Happy secret birthday” Clint tells him, running his hands down the back of Phil’s neck.  
  
“You mean happy secret starting to date your favourite Avenger day” Phil replies and Clint huffs a laugh before kissing him again.  
  
“I’m not sure I want to date someone who gets fired every year from his job.”  
  
“You’re a walking PR disaster who had to be put in a separate room to sign photos.” Phil kisses him right back, letting his tongue run over Clint’s bottom lip.  They’ve moving slowly, but surely, towards the couch and he’s pretty sure once they hit it they’re conversation is going to stop.  “It’s a damn good thing you’re dating me because come 9 am, when I’m rehired, someone is going to have to explain today.”  
  
“Am I really your favourite?” Clint asks, hands moving again as he leans in rub his face against Phil’s and kiss his ear.  
  
“Yeah, but don’t let the other know or I’ll deny it all.”  Phil feels his leg hit the couch and pulls Clint down with him, letting limbs fall as they will. They’re kissing again and Phil knows he was right, they won’t talk again for a while.  Later he’ll tell Clint that he’s his favourite everything.  His favourite interruption when he’s reading a book, his favourite mistake, his favourite success story,  his favourite part of the day, his favourite surprise and his favourite secret.  Clint is better than a hidden birthday, away from everything that makes his life stressful.  Because, if he’s being honest with himself, even if it all ends tomorrow it’s all been worth it because it lead him to this perfect secret birthday. It lead him to Clint.


End file.
